Scars
by WalkerWriter
Summary: All the Cullens have scars. Some are visible and some are not. This is a collection of one-shots telling these stories. It is marked as complete as each chapter is independent of each other, but if you like it, follow the story so you know when a new chapter is posted. Once it is finished I will delete this part of the summary.


**Summary:** This story is about what Carlisle felt when Edward left during his rebellious years.

 **Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer

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 **CPOV**

Edward had left. He had left Esme and me. I thought our family bond was stronger than thirst. I thought it was proven every time one of us slipped and the others were there to support us all the way back, every time we could overcome the bloodlust frenzy that appears when smelling a particular appetizing human by talking reason into each other, achieving what many thought impossible: Overcome bloodlust, all by the sheer force of our love to each other. I thought I proved it when I successfully transformed two vampires that I hoped would share eternity with me, all without drinking their blood.

How wrong I had been.

Edward had left us to freely satiate his thirst without feeling my moral code being pushed to him, leaving years of companionship behind. I could not, I _would_ not hold it against him. During the years I had played with the idea of creating a vampire, I had realized that my compassion for human life had a limit. It's true that I think human life is as important as vampire's life and that I will continue my vegetarian lifestyle for as long as I live, sharing my beliefs with my family. But I had accepted that in creating vampires, the lives of humans that perished because of their thirst would be on my account. When creating both Edward and Esme I had accepted that human's lives would be lost because of _me_. Of course, that I would do - and will do - everything in my power to explain the importance of my way of life to my family, and if they were to share it, I would happily help them for as long as I could. However, even if I would like things to be different, I had made peace with the fact that they may not want to follow my lifestyle and that innumerable humans would find their deaths at the hands of someone I had brought into this life.

And now that Edward had left I had to accept the consequences of my actions. But I could not find it in me to regret my decision. True, I wished he had not left, but it was not the thought of him hunting humans that made my heart crumble into pieces. It was the fact that he had left. That he had left _me_.

Before he came I had been alone. Utterly alone. Alone in a way that I wish no one would ever have to be.

Before him, there were weeks when I would not go to my house - it was not even a home back then- just to avoid seeing that everything in there had not changed while I was away. That there was no one to greet me at the end of the day, that no one would tell me that things would be better, that the close call I had when I almost bit a bleeding woman in the park had _just_ been that, a close call. That they were not disappointed in me because I could not save all my patients. There was no one to hold me when the weight of the world felt almost too much to bear. There was no one I could even _talk to_ without having to be careful about keeping my charade in check. Just when I thought my solitude would be my only companion till the end of time, if it didn't kill me first, Edward came.

Suddenly, I had a reason to go home at the end of each day. Even during the worst part of his newborn year, when he would get angry for anything and everything, I had been happy that there was someone who was at my side, even if only to scream and bite me. At first, he had told me that he would only be staying during his newborn year, as he had no wish to live with a total stranger, but even _that_ could have made me happy for many decades, as the memories would have kept me going. The memories and the knowledge that there was someone out there who knew my story, who knew the _real_ me. And who knows? Maybe he would even agree to meet every couple of years. When his newborn year finished, he _did_ tell me that it was time for our relationship to change.

And from there on he called me father.

I had never been happier as when I knew that our temporal relationship had become permanent, and that never again would I have to worry about being alone. If that had been my happiest memory, then surely _this_ was the worst.

Now I am in my study, looking through the window as the retreating shape of Esme, leaving for a hunting trip. Today is the fifth year that Edward had not come back. And for the first time, I have refused to go hunting with her. When he left, I thought he would come back a couple of months later. But once more he proved me wrong. He did not come back and he didn't even tell us about his whereabouts. Of course, being with Esme makes me happier than I ever thought I would be, and even without Edward, there are days that are _almost_ perfect. But today is one of the bad days. Today I am feeling once more the claws of solitude ripping through my chest, and my mind is clouded with thoughts that not even Esme can chase away.

Today I know I will crumble, and I don't want Esme to see it. Therefore, I am patiently waiting for her to completely disappear before giving myself to the anguish that is ripping my soul.

As soon as her shape is no longer recognizable between the trees, I fell to my knees. Thoughts that I have been keeping at bay came with a vengeful force, and not even my rational mind could shelter me from the pain they created.

 _300 years of solitude. Had I really thought they were gone? Had I fell into the false pretense that I would never be alone again? Was I that unlovable?_

My rational mind tried to counter-attack each idea my traitor heart was making me feel, but there is no lifeline for a man in despair.

For the first time since I was changed, I felt pain strong enough to break the last of my barriers. For the first time in 300 years, I cry.

I cry for my lost son, I cry for the fear of solitude, for the fear that one day Esme may leave to. I _know_ we are mates, that leaving each would be the same as leaving our hearts behind, that there is no way either of us could continue existing without the other. But despair is a funny thing; it can break even the most infallible logic. The strength of my sobs shakes my body and the pain in my chest makes my vision go blurry. I feel how I lose control over my hands, over my body, and in the next second, I am destroying everything in my study.

When the last of books was sheared into pieces, when the wall had enough holes that recognizing the shape of the fist that created them was impossible, I became aware of my surroundings. Somewhere in between my frenzy I had gone to Edward's room. His piano stood in the middle, a silent companion to my pain. For five years no one had played it, the memories too painful to be endured by two parents who had lost a son.

But now that the despair is diminishing, I was overcome by the urge to play it. Slowly, as if the piano could disappear at any moment, I approach. As the first note vibrates in the room, I feel the rest of despair change into something else. It is still painful, still strong enough to cloud my mind if I am not aware. But it is more manageable. The dried sobs that vibrate in my chest are no longer overwhelming, just painful and sincere. They blend with the nostalgic melody my fingers are producing. As the song comes to an end, two strong arms wrapped around me, giving me the courage to face a new day.

"Carlisle"

That is all it takes. My name coming from Esme's lips carries a promise of love that would have scared a weaker man. She understands me better than myself, she knows the fears that are tormenting my soul. And just with that word, she is telling me everything that I need to know. She would never leave me, she would never stop loving me, she would keep solitude at bay.

And with one world I answer her. I tell her how I understand her message, how I will never feel alone as long as she is by my side, how having her with me has made me happier than I ever thought I deserved. She also understands that even if she is all I will ever need to be happy, there are scars that will never fade. How his leaving has scared me permanently, how him leaving me has made me have the forever tickling thought of the what ifs. What if they leave, what if I become alone again, what if solitude becomes stronger than me without them to keep her at bay.

"Esme"

The hug we silently share during the rest of the night tell us everything that we needed to know. Yes, I will have that scar permanently, and yes, sometimes the what-ifs will cloud my vision. But she will always be there to remind me that I will never have to stand alone again.

After all, she is my heart, and I am hers.

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